


She Makes Me a Killer

by timewarp



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, The Man from U.N.C.L.E. - Freeform, spy AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 13:49:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5872747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timewarp/pseuds/timewarp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke Griffin joins a spy mission against a mysterious criminal organization. She's forced to team up with Lexa as they go under the guise of a newlywed couple. </p><p>The Man from U.N.C.L.E. AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	She Makes Me a Killer

Bellamy Blake (if that was his real name) was easily the most annoying human being Clarke had ever met. 

She had been painting on her easel when Bellamy had oozed his way into her studio. She hadn’t even heard him come in. Damn him. 

“Impressive painting.” 

Clarke whirled around, annoyed rather than shocked to see him standing there. 

“I, ah, like the stars that you’ve painted there,” he said while gesturing at her painting. He had the most irritating smirk on his face and was altogether way too pleased with himself. 

Clarke raised an eyebrow. “Your fake accent is fooling nobody, especially me. Mind telling me what you’re doing here? Or else, bugger off.”

Bellamy laughed softly. “A woman who gets to the point. I like that. Well, Ms. Griffin, may I call you Clarke?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “Basically, the agency I work for wants information about your father. In exchange, I get you out of here and to the other side of the wall.” 

“My father is dead,” Clarke turned towards her painting and picked up her palette. 

Bellamy picked up a picture frame that was on Clarke’s desk. The picture was faded and in it was a small girl smiling with her father. “Yeah, I heard about that. That was unfortunate and you have my condolences. However, I was referring to your stepfather, Kane. He has information that we need.” 

“How do I know I can trust you?” 

“You don’t. That’s the exciting part. Oh and make up your mind in the next five seconds will you? I need to use your car.” 

\--

And that’s how Clarke Griffin found herself driving Bellamy Blake at two o’clock in the morning. It was sheer insanity, this whole thing. 

Apparently, someone had followed Bellamy all the way to Clarke’s place. They were doubtless still following them now, whoever they were. Bellamy laid down on Clarke’s backseat with a gun in his hand. “Probably Russians,” Bellamy had mentioned casually. 

Clarke flickered an eye to her rear-view mirror and sure enough, there was a car behind her. 

“Are they following us?” Bellamy asked. 

“Mm-hmm,” Clarke nodded imperceptibly. 

Bellamy rolled down a window and got back down. His gun was clenched tight in his hands. 

Clarke slowed to a stop at the stop sign and waited. The person slowed down to stop so that their car was right next to Clarke’s car. Out of the corner of Clarke’s eye she saw that it was a woman sitting in the car. 

“Are they next to us?”

Clarke hummed an affirmation. 

“Do they have one hand on the steering wheel?”

Again, Clarke hummed. The woman had war paint smeared on her face, giving her a feral look. 

“As soon as you hear a gunshot, drive,” Bellamy muttered. 

The next few seconds were amongst the tensest in Clarke’s life. As soon as she heard gunshots, Clarke slammed her feet on the gas pedal. The car squealed as Clarke peeled out of there. Her ears were ringing and she felt the blood pumping through her veins. She hadn’t felt this alive in a long while. 

“Did you get her?” 

“Nope. Let’s hope she doesn’t drive as fast as she ducks.” 

Clarke heard a squeal of tires and floodlights flashed in her mirrors. 

“Looks like we’re out of luck on that front,” she muttered. 

“Damn,” Bellamy swore. “Who is she?” 

Clarke tightened her grip on the steering wheel as she maneuvered the two of them. On their right, the woman quickly caught up with them and swerved her car into theirs. Clarke turned so the woman barely missed her car. 

“Make a left here,” Bellamy said. 

Clarke swerved the car in an immediate turn. Bellamy crashed against the car door with an ‘oof.’ 

“That bitch,” Clarke gasped. “Does she realize how expensive this car was?” 

“I hate to break it to you but I doubt she cares.” 

Clarke growled. “Just get us out of this situation.” 

Bellamy chuckled. “Make a left and another left.” 

Clarke complied. Unfortunately, the woman was just as fast. The woman edged closer and closer to Clarke’s car until Clarke felt a thud and heard metal scraping. 

“Fuck. She hit us.” 

“Drive faster then.” 

“Oh shut it will you?” 

Clarke was struck with an idea. At this point, the two cars were side by side. Neck and neck. She could see the feral woman baring her teeth.

“Hold on!” Clarke yelled. Clarke swerved the car and made a sharp U-Turn. She darted into a nearby alleyway and drove out to another street. Her maneuver seemed to have worked since the woman was no longer in sight. 

Bellamy let out a low whistle. “Nicely done,” he said, appreciative. His demeanor then became serious. “You see the red building up ahead? We’re going to get out of the car and go into there.” 

After Clarke pulled over and parked the car, they saw a flash of the familiar floodlights. 

“Shit,” Clarke hissed. 

“Okay, we gotta hurry up. Quick! Go in.” They scrambled out of the car and ran inside the building. Bellamy bounded for the stairs and Clarke followed. They made it up several stories when they heard the front door slam. 

“Hurry, hurry, we gotta hurry,” Bellamy muttered. Once they made it to the top, Clarke looked around, breathing heavily.

“We’re on the roof! Now what?” Clarke exhaled. 

Bellamy grinned. “Now we jump.” 

“What?!” 

“Follow my lead.” 

Bellamy backed up and started at a full sprint towards a building a few feet away from him. He leaped over the gap and landed solidly on the other building. Clarke gaped at him. Just then, the rooftop door slammed open and the feral woman looked murderously at Clarke. 

Clarke’s eyes widened. Shit, shit, shit. The woman made a dash for Clarke and so without thinking, Clarke followed Bellamy’s steps and found herself in mid-air between the two buildings. She landed with a resounding thud next to where Bellamy stood. 

Bellamy extended his hand to Clarke and she took it, standing up with a groan. Every bone in her body ached in that second. 

“C’mon, we’re nearly there,” Bellamy said. “See that wire over there? It’s going to lead us to the other side of the wall where my men are waiting.” 

Clarke groaned but followed Bellamy. They got to the edge of the other side of the rooftop and Clarke couldn’t help but notice how high up they were. Sure enough, there was the wire Bellamy had mentioned. On the other side of the wall, Clarke could make out a truck with its trunk full of agents. 

Bellamy shrugged off his jacket and put it around the wire. Behind them was a resounding thump. Clarke’s eyes widened when she saw that the woman, too, had made it over the roof. Bellamy looked at Clarke and nodded. 

“Put your arms around me.”

Clarke obeyed and Bellamy kicked them off. Clarke hung onto his body for dear life. They were hurtling down to their doom. Clarke craned her head and to her horror, the woman had followed their lead and was close behind them. 

Miraculously, Bellamy and Clarke made it to the other side with a booming crash. They were injured but alive. Barely. Clarke struggled up to see that they had landed inside the truck. Just as planned. 

“Cut the wires!” Bellamy yelled from underneath Clarke. One of the men nearby grabbed a huge pair of sheers and deftly cut the wires in one go. As if on cue, the truck roared to a start and sped off. Clarke saw the woman had fallen when the wires had been cut but had managed to cling onto the wall for support. The woman stared at them while they drove away. Whoever she was, she was a terrifying force of nature. 

\--

Clarke gagged and spat out the food she’d been chewing. 

“Urgh, this tastes like feet.” 

“Hey! That’s expensive feet,” Bellamy said, looking hurt. He unwrapped his apron and threw it on the kitchen counter. 

Clarke eyed him, apprehensive. He and his men had brought her into a hotel room after they had crossed the wall. Apparently Bellamy was not only a spy (or whatever the hell he was) but a wannabe chef as well. He claimed that the dish he made was a delicacy where he came from. His people must have terrible taste. Clarke grimaced. She could still taste the aftertaste of the food she had just spit out. Perhaps they were trying to poison her. 

Regardless of Bellamy’s words, Clarke did not trust him. When Bellamy had been busy cooking, Clarke had nicked a knife when he wasn’t looking. She gripped it tightly from underneath the table. 

Bellamy sighed. “Try to get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day, okay?” He went to the front door. “Also,” he winked, “I know that you stole a knife. Try not to use it on me. I know at least twenty ways I could disarm you.” And with that, he left Clarke alone in her room. 

_Damn._

\--

Bellamy came by early the next day. Clarke had already been awake at that point, thankfully. She never slept longer than a few hours when she was in an unfamiliar location. 

Bellamy had been sheepish when Clarke opened the door and handed her an umbrella as it was raining outside. Clarke briefly scanned his face and noticed bags under his eyes. Bellamy was smiling and yet there was something nearly imperceptible in his eyes. Strange. 

Once they were outside, Bellamy filled Clarke in on the details. Apparently, the Americans had struck up an uneasy alliance with the Russians. Nazi sympathizers had gotten ahold of Clarke’s late father’s notes and were using them to build a weapon. Her stepfather was suspected in helping them. 

When Bellamy finished, Clarke laughed in disbelief. She had never been particularly close with her stepfather but she had never dreamed something like this would happen. 

“I can’t believe you guys are teaming up with the Russians,” Clarke said in skepticism. 

Bellamy nodded. “That’s how you know things are serious. We would never have teamed up with them otherwise.” 

“So what exactly is my part in this great plan of yours?” 

Bellamy laughed. “Ah, you’re not going to like it.” He ran his fingers through his hair. 

Clarke frowned. “And why not?” 

Bellamy quirked his lips. “Well… you’ll see soon enough. Here, we’re going inside.” 

Clarke paused and looked. They were outside a… clothing store? She furrowed her brows in confusion. Perhaps it was a front? 

Or not.

As soon as they got inside, Clarke was barraged by racks and racks of clothing. Bellamy picked up a blue dress and held it in front of her. 

“This’d look good on you. Bring out the blue in your eyes,” he said while his eyes twinkled. 

Clarke scrunched up her nose in disgust. The dress had ruffles. 

Bellamy laughed and gestured to the clothing. “Go on then. You need a new wardrobe.” 

Clarke scoffed in disbelief. 

Somehow or another, Bellamy had convinced her to try on a dress. The dress itself was pretty nice, Clarke had to admit. It was simple yet the shade of green was flattering. Bellamy whistled appreciatively when Clarke had come out of the dressing room. 

“My wife would never wear something like that,” a woman’s voice grunted from behind her. Clarke whirled around and gasped when she came face to face with the feral woman from the night before. Unlike last night, the woman lacked the war paint and was dressed in regular civilian clothes. 

Instinctively, Clarke grabbed the knife she had stored in her underwear and flipped it so that it was in her hand. Clarke grabbed the woman with her other hand and placed the knife at her neck and forced the woman against the closest wall. 

“What are you doing here?” Clarke hissed. 

“Clarke,” Bellamy’s warning voice said. 

The woman smirked at Clarke. Clarke pressed the knife harder against the woman’s skin. 

“Answer me,” Clarke growled.

In a singular deft motion, the woman knocked the knife out of Clarke’s hand and swung around, twisting Clarke’s arm behind her back. 

“Is that any way to treat your wife?” The woman asked. She let Clarke go and Clarke stumbled to the ground. 

All Clarke saw was red. She lunged toward the woman but was blocked by Bellamy. He stepped in between them, fending off the two women. Clarke breathed heavily, still seething with anger. 

“What is she doing here?” Clarke asked Bellamy, still struggling to hit the other woman. 

Bellamy sighed. “This is what I meant when I said we were teaming up with the Russians. Lexa here will be assisting us.” 

“And what does she mean by calling me her wife?” 

Lexa answered, “Because you are now my wife. Until the mission is over.” 

Clarke stopped struggling and stood upright to stare at Bellamy, aghast. 

“What?!” 

“As part of the mission, you and Lexa will pretend to be newly weds on your honeymoon.” 

Clarke scoffed. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I wish he were, you’re hardly my type,” Lexa quipped. 

Clarke’s eyes flashed. “You know, you’re paying me for the damage you did to my car.”

Lexa snorted. “You call that contraption a car?”

“Alright, enough,” Bellamy said. “It’s just for a few days. As soon as this mission is over, you guys can kill each other. Deal?” 

“Ugh,” Clarke said, “What about you? What’s your cover?”

“I will be an antiquities dealer specializing in Greek and Roman art. It’ll make me inconspicuous.”

Clarke crossed her arms. 

“Now, let’s pick out your wardrobe.” 

Lexa looked at the rack of the clothing the salespeople had put out and frowned. She picked up a dress. 

“These are no good,” she said. “She’ll stand out too much with these.” 

Bellamy scoffed. “They’re fine.” 

Lexa starred daggers at Bellamy. “If the girl wears any of these, one look will tell anyone that she’s from the other side of the wall.” 

“The girl has a name,” Clarke raised her eyebrow. “Clarke.” 

“Fine, Clarke. Try this dress on.” 

Lexa handed Clarke a white dress with green stripes. Clarke rolled her eyes but went to the dressing room to change. When she came out, she could feel Bellamy and Lexa’s gaze on her body. Bellamy’s jaw dropped and Lexa looked, well, less angry than she usually did. 

“Damn Griffin, looking good,” he whistled softly. 

“Keep it in your pants, Blake,” Lexa sneered. 

Bellamy smirked and gave Clarke a knowing look. “Well, I’ll see you ladies in Rome. Don’t forget. You two are madly in love. Act like you mean it.” 

And with a wave, he was gone. 

Now it was just Clarke and Lexa. Great. 

Lexa scanned over Clarke’s body. “Hm, the dress suits you. However, it’s missing something.” 

“What is it?” 

Lexa reached into her pocket and held out a wedding ring. She picked up Clarke’s left hand and slipped the ring through her finger. 

“Now we are married. Congratulations,” she said dryly. 

Clarke tore her hand away from Lexa’s grasp. “I should feel so lucky,” she snapped. 

\--

When they entered the hotel they were staying at in Rome, Clarke’s jaw dropped. She had never stayed in a place so nice before in her life. It was huge with marble floors and an expansive ceiling. There were doormen and people were dressed in absurdly nice clothing. Jeez. She should be a spy more often if it meant staying in places like this. 

Clarke was thankful to finally be in Rome. The flight over had been a nightmare. Clarke and Lexa had barely spoken. Lexa had been too busy looking over the papers her boss had sent her about the mission. Clarke had tried asking her questions but was met with reticent grunts from Lexa, telling her nothing. Clarke had given up and decided to sleep through the flight. The taxi ride from the airport to the hotel was equally awkward.

They had gotten to the front desk and Lexa took care of the details, speaking in rapid Italian to the receptionist. On the way to their room, they passed by Bellamy who gave Clarke a wink but otherwise pretended he didn’t know them. 

Clarke and Lexa went up to their room and wow, their room was easily bigger than Clarke’s entire apartment. Clarke noticed that there were two beds. Good. At least she didn’t have to sleep with Lexa. The horror. 

They had barely been in their room for five seconds when Lexa insisted they go out for a walk. Clarke agreed reluctantly. 

The sun had set while they were in the hotel so it was now dark outside. The streetlights illuminated the streets. It was a warm night and Clarke saw many couples walking around. 

“Where are we going?” Clarke asked. 

“Where every newly wed goes when they visit Rome,” Lexa replied, “to see the sights, of course.” 

Lexa entangled her hand with Clarke’s. Clarke nearly jumped from the sudden physical contact but remembered they were supposed to act like they were in love. Clarke didn’t think they made a very convincing couple but hey, that was Bellamy’s problem, not hers. 

“Okay seriously, where are we going?” Clarke muttered under her breath, making sure to smile brightly for whoever might be watching. 

“Can you just trust me?”

“Considering you dented my car, no. No, I cannot just trust you. Now tell me.” Clarke smiled even larger. “Dearest.” 

Lexa exhaled but sported a fake smile rivaling Clarke’s. “Well, _honey_. I want to see if anyone is following us.” 

Clarke gave a loud fake laugh as they passed by another couple. “Splendid idea, baby.” 

“Baby? Seriously?” 

Clarke opened her mouth to make a snide remark but the sight of Bellamy pulling up next to them on a Vespa interrupted her. 

“Well, you ladies look like you’re getting along well,” Bellamy smiled. 

“What are you doing here? We’re not supposed to make contact in public,” Lexa hissed, not looking at Bellamy. 

“I know,” Bellamy lowered his voice. “I just wanted to tell you guys that you’re being followed.” 

Clarke perked her head up. 

“I know. Two men in their mid-thirties wearing brown suits.”

And of course, Lexa had failed to mention this fact to Clarke. 

Bellamy cleared his voice. “They diverted when you came down the steps. I imagine that they’re waiting ahead of you guys.” 

Lexa sighed impatiently. “I got this. Now leave. I can handle two men.”

Bellamy raised his eyebrows. “And by handle, you mean act scared and give them your wallet, right?” 

Lexa made a noise of disbelief. “Scared?” 

Clarke furrowed her eyebrows. “What’s going on?” 

“You’re being tested,” Bellamy answered. “They want to find out that your wife is just your wife and you know, not some kind of trained fighter. Hence the whole undercover bit?” 

“I got it,” Lexa seethed. “Now leave us alone.” 

“Lexa,” Clarke’s warning voice said, “Listen to Bellamy.” 

Lexa gave her a look of unmitigated fury but said nothing. 

“Ciao,” Bellamy said. 

Lexa stared at him before taking Clarke’s arm around hers and dragged her away. 

 

\---

Clarke clutched onto Lexa’s arm as they walked through the street in silence. Clarke’s shoulders were tensed. The men could show up at any second. 

As if on cue, two men appeared in front of them from an alleyway. They were both wearing brown suits. 

“Nice outfits,” one of them said. 

Lexa and Clarke stopped in their tracks. Clarke held in her breath. She looked at Lexa whose face was as impassive as ever. 

“I don’t think they would fit you,” Lexa said coldly. 

The men chuckled. “Then maybe you give us some money for food, yes?”

“Honey,” Clarke said out of the corner of her mouth, “Give them the money.” 

Lexa did not break eye contact with the men as she pulled out her wallet from her purse and handed them a few lira. The man closest to Clarke and Lexa grinned and took Lexa’s purse instead of the money in her hand. 

“Enjoy your food,” Lexa said stiffly. Clarke knew that she was barely containing her rage at this point. 

“Uh huh,” the man in front of them wagged his finger. “Give us your rings.” 

Clarke pulled off her ring and handed it to the man. Lexa did not move. 

“Lexa,” Clarke said. “Give him the ring.” 

Lexa complied and took off the ring. She extended her hand and when the man went to take the ring, her fist made contact with his face. The man howled in pain and cursed. 

“Sorry,” Lexa said, not sounding sorry in the slightest. “My hand slipped.” 

The man squinted at her and held his hand against his cheek. He snatched the ring from her palm and staggered away with his companion. 

“Not very good at this whole subtlety thing are you?” Bellamy’s voice rang from behind them. 

Lexa whirled around, her fists clenched. “They stole the rings as planned.”

“Yeah but you could’ve done without the whole punching them in the face thing.”

Lexa scoffed. “It was just a scratch.”

Bellamy raised his eyebrows. “Just a scratch? The man’s nose was bleeding. I would say that was more than just a scratch.”

“Look, I am Russian. Russian women don’t just let men get away with their things. They fight back.”

Bellamy let out a disbelieving laugh. “Oh so you actually put thought into this?” 

Clarke decided that she’d finally had enough of this. “Guys, enough!” Bellamy and Lexa looked at her, as if just realizing that she had been there all along. “Let’s focus on the mission, yeah? I’m not your mother so get your shit together or else, I’m out of here.” 

And with that, she stalked away.

\---  
Clarke was on the phone with Kane when Lexa entered the hotel room. 

“Yeah everything’s fine, thanks,” Clarke said. She mouthed ‘Kane’ when Lexa gave her an inquisitive look. Lexa nodded in affirmation. “Yeah, Lexa was upset about them stealing our rings but she’s fine now. Those guys were way too scary to mess with.” Clarke paused. “Great, so we’ll see you tomorrow. Bye Kane.”

Clarke hung up the phone and saw Lexa contemplating over the chessboard. 

“That was Kane inviting us over to a work party he has tomorrow. We’re both expected to come.” 

Lexa nodded but didn’t make eye contact, still staring at the chessboard.

“You call him by his first name?” Lexa asked.

Clarke shrugged. “He’s my stepfather. He’ll never replace my dad.”

Lexa said nothing in reply. Clarke put her hands on her hips and watched Lexa watch the chessboard. Lexa picked up a piece and placed it down in a different spot. Clarke groaned in frustration. Out of all the people in the world to get paired up with, she got stuck with the most infuriating woman? 

Clarke stomped around the room until she found a wine bottle. She opened it with a corkscrew and took a swing of it. She walked back to where Lexa was still hunched over the chessboard. Clarke held out the wine bottle.

“Want some?” 

Lexa briefly looked up. “No thank you.” 

Clarke shrugged and chugged down the wine. 

“Would you like a glass?” Lexa asked, sarcasm dripping her words. 

Clarke put down the bottle and wiped her mouth. “Nah I’m good. I’m going to finish this bottle. Are you going to help me with it or not?”

“I will pass.” 

Clarke sighed and decided to down the rest of what was left of the bottle. 

“This is fun,” Clarke said as she walked away. 

“We are not on a mission to have fun, Clarke. You would be wise to realize that.”

Clarke felt her blood boil and she took a calming breath. She found a record player and turned on music. Dance music began to blare. Clarke found that she liked this song. Her intoxicated state didn’t hurt either. 

Clarke began to sway to the beat of the music. 

“Come on Lexa,” Clarke yelled. “Dance with me!” Lexa did not reply so Clarke continued to dance. Eventually, Lexa got the hint that Clarke was not going to stop. She stood up and walked to where Clarke was dancing. 

“Come on, dance with me.”

Lexa folded her arms. “I’m tired. Turn the music off and we’ll go to sleep.” 

Clarke mock pouted. “So that’s a no? You won’t dance with me? Or you can’t dance?” 

Lexa rolled her eyes. “I can dance just fine. I just choose not to.”

Clarke picked up Lexa’s arms. Lexa tensed at the physical contact. Clarke moved them with the beat of the music. 

“C’mon Lex-Lex. Dance with your wife.” 

Lexa scoffed but let Clarke move her arms in a ridiculous exaggerated motion. Lexa’s feet stayed firmly planted. Clarke moved them back and forth, hardly caring that they weren’t moving in rhythm. Lexa just stared at her. 

“I’m pretty sure that I’ve danced with loaves of bread that move better than you do,” Clarke said. 

“Are you quite done, Clarke?” Lexa asked, her voice accentuating the hard “k” in Clarke’s name. 

“So I guess you still don’t want to dance?” Clarke let go of Lexa’s hands and put her own hands on her hips. She glared at Lexa. 

“Let’s go to sleep. You’re not in some East German chop shop anymore.” 

Clarke scoffed. “Would you rather fight than dance?” 

“Clarke,” Lexa’s warning voice said, her tone indicating that she knew what Clarke was up to. 

Clarke in her inebriated state decided that it would be a brilliant idea to lunge at Lexa and tackle her. Clarke’s momentum knocked them backwards where they hit the couch and rolled off. Clarke and Lexa struggled on the ground until Clarke rolled them so that Lexa was on the ground and Clarke was straddling her hips. 

Lexa wasn’t about to go down without a fight and for a few moments, they struggled furiously. Clarke grabbed Lexa’s wrists and pinned them above Lexa’s head. Breathing heavily, Clarke was inches away from Lexa’s face. Lexa looked murderous and her eyes were steely. They stayed in that position for a while, not saying a word. Lexa’s hands gripped Clarke’s wrists. 

Clarke stared triumphantly at Lexa. She loved wiping the smirk off of Lexa’s face. Suddenly, Clarke felt her eyelids get heavy. The flight and all the excitement earlier combined with alcohol was taking its toll. Clarke slackened her grip on Lexa and felt herself closing her eyes. She slumped forward and before losing consciousness, she saw Lexa’s face looking at her.

When Clarke wakes up later that night, she noticed that she was in her bed. Lexa was in the bed next to hers’, breathing quietly. Clarke tugged on the blanket and fell back asleep, strangely content. 

**Author's Note:**

> It was pretty fun writing this! I'm masterofnaan on tumblr if you wanna check it out~  
> The title of this fic is from a Die Antwoord song!


End file.
